


Cuba

by almostafantasia



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Irina's POV, Not to be taken seriously, crackfic, in a totally unbelievable kind of way, it's heavily implied that villaneve are doing each other often, post 3x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostafantasia/pseuds/almostafantasia
Summary: Irina thinks that life can't get any worse when she ends up on vacation with her annoying dad, her annoying dad's unofficially adopted daughter, and her annoying dad's unofficially adopted daughter's brand new girlfriend.And then it does get worse.(aka the gang goes to cuba)
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 315





	Cuba

Irina was under the impression that going on vacation was supposed to be fun.

This is not fun. This is the opposite of fun. This is totally un-fun.

“I will not let you leave the hotel like that!” Irina yells at her father across the table. “It’s bad enough you dress like that for breakfast!”

“What? I look like I am going to the beach.”

There are some things that men over a certain age should be banned from wearing. The shirt that Irina’s dad has decided to put on this morning is one of those things.

It is bright red, which is almost enough of a warning sign by itself. Irina remembers being taught that red means danger when she was much younger but she is only just realising how true that is. In this particular case, it is warning Irina that she will require therapy for decades to overcome this visual. The image of her father in the shirt, which is patterned with blue and green flowers that are so far removed from his usual head-to-toe black, will be burned onto Irina’s retinas for all eternity. 

He probably thinks that his attire is holiday-appropriate, because that’s how out of touch he actually is with reality. But quite frankly, he looks ridiculous.

Irina decides to tell him as much.

“You look ridiculous!”

“I am trying to blend in,” he answers. “Nobody goes on holiday to Cuba and wears black. Right, Eve?”

He turns to address the third person at their breakfast table, asking for her opinion on his _awful_ shirt.

Seriously, the only place that shirt would look good is in an incinerator.

“Don’t involve me!” says Eve, holding up her hands defensively. “I’m staying out of this!”

Irina doesn’t really understand Eve’s purpose on this vacation, other than the fact that her presence makes Villanelle’s mood marginally less volatile. When her dad came to collect her from the detention centre, Irina thought it would just be the two of them going away together. But then Villanelle decided to come with them, and Villanelle and Eve are apparently a package deal now which means that Eve had to come along too, and now there are four of them on this holiday and Irina is having a terrible time.

“It is a nice shirt,” her dad says, lifting his hands to straighten the collar. “A _cool_ shirt.”

“You wouldn’t recognise cool if it bit you on the ass,” retorts Irina.

If Villanelle was here right now, she would agree with Irina. Villanelle’s main redeeming feature that stops her from being a total annoyance is that she likes to antagonise Irina’s dad too. Together it is two versus one, and Eve will also agree with whatever Villanelle says because that’s what people do when they’re fucking as often as those two probably are, so that makes three against one. Ha!

Irina; one. Shirt; zero.

“Where is Villanelle?” Irina asks Eve. “She will agree with me about the shirt.”

“She was still in the shower when I left the room,” Eve answers with a shrug.

“Is she coming with us to the beach today?” Irina’s dad asks.

“I think so.”

Villanelle, who has a flair for the dramatic that Irina is a little bit envious of, not that she would ever admit that aloud, must surely have been lurking outside the breakfast hall waiting for her name to be brought up in conversation because she makes an appearance almost as soon as they start talking about her.

“¡Hola!” Villanelle declares loudly as she enters the hotel dining room, arms outstretched as she does a full spin to show off her-

No.

Oh _god_ no.

Villanelle is wearing one too.

Is this karmic revenge on Irina for hitting her step-dad with a car?

Villanelle’s shirt is electric blue and decorated with tiny parrots but it is no less of an eyesore than the one Irina’s father wears. At least Villanelle has made herself look semi-fashionable, the sleeves rolled up to create a perfect inch-wide cuff against her bicep, the hem tucked into a pair of denim shorts that show off her long legs, and the collar unbuttoned halfway down her chest.

“I hate you all!” Irina rages, folding her arms across her chest as she slumps back in her chair.

“Where is your shirt, Irina?” asks Villanelle, as she drops into the last remaining seat at the table. “Eve, I will let you off but _only_ because of that thing you did to me this morning.”

Irina thinks she might be about to be sick.

“Villanelle!” hisses Eve, casting a wary gaze in Irina’s direction. “There are children present.”

“I’m fourteen and I know you two are having sex!” shouts Irina. “And I’m not going anywhere with you wearing those shirts.”

Villanelle looks across at Konstantin, then down at her own shirt, then eventually up at Irina again with a confused frown etched upon her face.

“Well I can’t take it off,” Villanelle says, her eyes widening at her own suggestion, “because I don’t think that’s entirely appropriate at a family friendly hotel. Anyway, Eve likes the shirts. Don’t you, Eve?”

Eve’s eyes flick back and forth between Villanelle and Irina, clearly trying to weigh up the pros and cons of agreeing with each of them.

“I said I’d stay out of it,” Eve answers neutrally.

“Aren’t we supposed to be keeping a low profile?” demands Irina. She jabs an accusatory finger at her father and says, “That’s what _you_ said to me. You said we were going to lay low for a bit.”

“We are laying low on a Cuban beach,” says Villanelle, as she leans across the table to pick at Eve’s breakfast plate with her fingers. “You need to learn how to dress the part.”

“If I wanted to dress like a clown, I would just buy a costume,” Irina retorts.

Villanelle pulls a face and starts to mimic Irina in an annoying high-pitched whine that doesn’t sound even remotely like her voice.

“ _If I wanted to-”_

“Enough!” Irina’s dad yells, cutting Villanelle off abruptly mid-sentence by slamming the palm of his hand down on the table. “ _You_ need to behave,” he points a finger at Villanelle, “and _you_ need to behave,” he points his finger at Irina, “and you-” Konstantin trails off when he reaches Eve and he pauses to think. “You are okay at the moment but you have a track record for causing problems so don’t even think about getting us into any trouble.”

“Oh, I’m always on my best behaviour,” Eve says in a chirpy voice.

Villanelle reaches across the the table and covers Eve’s hand with her own, before murmuring in a low voice, “I don’t know about that, I thought you were a pretty bad girl last night when you-”

“Oh my god!” yells Irina, pushing her chair back noisily and getting to her feet. “I hate you all!”

Honestly, Irina just wishes she was back in juvie.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired entirely by the visual of Villanelle and Konstantin in outrageous shirts. If you want to see my attempt at creating that image using below average art skills, check it out on twitter @almostafantasia


End file.
